


No Kisses for Anders

by Kirkwallgirl



Series: Freckles and Feathers [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, cold sores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirkwallgirl/pseuds/Kirkwallgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all!</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Kisses for Anders

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing on the train, inspired by a new experience! :D Yay! Jay Hawke x Anders, but could work as a generic mHawke x Anders thing, probably. :) Fluff! What else, really, this is me we’re talking about? I’ll turn ANYTHING into fluff. Also yes, written on the train. Be warned, reckless writing ahead! xD

Hawke didn’t kiss Anders first thing in the morning - on the forehead, or on the back of the neck, a sleepy, sloppy, sleep-warm kiss on warm skin or soft brow that had not yet had time to tighten in the face of the day’s worries. Nor did he kiss Anders’ fingers when he tried to slip out of bed without waking Hawke: no stolen little kiss, barely brushing against the long, work-worn and rough knuckles, or against the pads of the fingers.

Hawke didn’t kiss Anders casually on the stubbled cheek or on the lightly freckled shoulder at breakfast in the kitchen where Bodahn and Orana - if they were awake early enough - pretended not to see, and hid their smiles.

He didn’t kiss Anders good-bye on the basement door when Anders left to the clinic alone, or at the front door if he took the longer road or needed to pick up some supplies on the way. There was no quick, affectionate kiss on the mouth, and perhaps another one for luck, with more feeling.

Hawke didn’t kiss Anders briefly when he went down to Darktown to bring Anders food, or a helping hand - he didn’t answer the peck Anders gave him on the cheek to greet him if he had the time, or remembered.

Hawke didn’t kiss Anders’ head of red-gold hair, or the tense neck at the end of a long day when Anders stopped in the middle of cleaning or other clinic chores to wipe his brow, or to lean tiredly on his broom for a moment - “Age doesn’t come alone,” Hawke liked to tease him as though he himself couldn’t feel the long days of work and standing in his back and legs.

“It seems to come with kisses,” Anders liked to tell him back. But there were no kisses now, no soft lips and coase beard to tickle the sensitive skin on Anders’ neck, making him squirm and laugh (or accidentally elbow Hawke in the stomach).

Hawke didn’t kiss Anders hungrily when they were alone, tasting his mouth, and on his tongue and lips whatever he had been eating or drinking in the past hour. He didn’t kiss the corner of Anders’ mouth and make it twitch, and he didn’t plant kisses on the jawline, or trail them down the strong pulse on his neck to his collar bone, and down again, and again, and again.

And finally, Hawke didn’t kiss Anders late at night in bed when the candles and lamps had been blown, and the fire in the fireplace had long since collapsed into embers and ashes - didn’t kiss him wherever the sleepy kiss might land: on the mouth, on the cheekbone, on the forehead, or on the eyelid, on his shoulder if Anders was the front spoon, or on the hair, or the neck, or the little bump in the spine where back turned into neck. He _almost_ did, and groaned, pressing his forehead against Anders’ shoulder instead, and Anders’ chest shook with laughter.

 

“The cold sore’s all gone,” Anders announced one day after examining Hawke’s lip carefully, and smiled at how much the thought perked Hawke up - Hawke very nearly beamed.

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?” Hawke asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

Hawke grinned, grabbed Anders’ face, and kissed him until their toes curled. He kissed Anders until Anders was flushed and laughing, and he himself out of breath and light-headed.

“I have wanted to do that a thousand times in the past week,” Hawke said, looking entirely pleased with himself, and touched their foreheads together. He had not realized how much he took it for granted, kissing his lover - until he couldn’t do it and suddenly missed it terribly. All the little touches - caresses, hugs, nuzzles - that he had used to answer Anders’ kisses had been lovely, but weren’t quite the same.

Anders licked his kiss-swollen lips and gave Hawke a crooked little smirk, eyeing his mouth.

“I wouldn’t be againt catching up to all those times,” he said.


End file.
